


A challenge between outcasts

by Alphawave



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, It's a bit funnier than that and there is kind of a plot, M/M, Sett literally gets distracted by man titty and decides to go down on Sylas, These men are both tops but they take their turns because they're gentlemen, but that's all it is, that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25167202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphawave/pseuds/Alphawave
Summary: It's well known that Sett won't refuse a challenge of strength, but he's surprised when Sylas challenges Sett with a duel. If Sylas wins, Sett must give up some of his finest warriors to bolster Sylas's army. If Sett wins, Sylas gets to be his manservant.Little did Sylas know that a challenge of strength doesn't always mean combat.Commissioned by my dear friend Lou/hi_host on twitter (who you should check out btw)
Relationships: Sett/Sylas (League of Legends)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	A challenge between outcasts

**Author's Note:**

> This story was commissioned by my friend Lou/hi_host on twitter. If you're interested in commissioning a story from me, check out my tumblr (alphawave-writes) or my twitter (alphawave13)!

It wasn't often that Sett was approached by someone asking  _ him  _ to be the bodyguard. Usually they’d ask him to provide with bodyguards, or even offer their bodyguard services for a fee. Not that Sett didn't play bodyguard every now and then for the girls in his employ, but that was only because he was protecting his goods. Just because he was king of the Pit didn’t mean he could treat those loyal to him like trash, and honestly, he liked having an excuse to keep his reflexes sharp and his muscles primed.

This, however, was different. For one thing, this offer came from a relative stranger to boot. A fine, hulking stranger with chains wrapped around his arms and the broadest chest this side of the archipelagos. And this hunky, hulking stranger was flanked by Demacian mages. Sett thought he recognized one or two of them around the streets perhaps, or maybe even part of the crowd watching the show. Either way it only meant one thing. They had been scoping him out. This encounter was planned. 

"Who are you, and how the hell did you get here?" Sett gave a withering glare at his personal bodyguards, who slinked away into the background in shame. He bloody paid them to do one thing, and that was to protect him from unwanted guests. Couldn’t they give him the common decency of telling him when someone was coming in ahead of time? At least now he had some new contenders for Friday Night Fast Ones. He couldn't exactly call it Friday Night Dead-In-A-Few-Seconds Ones. It's not as catchy.

"Settrigh, King of the Pit, ruler of the Ionian Underworld," the stranger bowed their head. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Deep voice. That was the first thing that Sett thought. The second thing was the commanding presence in that voice alone. It would explain why a nobody was able to amass an army of Demacian mages right under Sett’s nose.

Sett smirked. Smart and sexy. Just the way he liked them.

"Look, the only people who flatter me are those that are trying to get into my pants, or they want something from me, and I'll be honest, I wouldn't mind this once if you're the former."

Some of Sett's men began to chuckle under their breath. A few of the Demacian mages did as well, though they were far quicker at stifling their laughter. The stranger, however, did not laugh. If he just glared at Sett, or laughed along, perhaps then Sett would think this guy was all talk. But the stranger did none of that.

Instead, the stranger smiled. Softly, in amusement, like he found Sett—or even this entire scenario—entertaining. It was genuine but unnaturally soft, the kind of laugh made by people who want to laugh but couldn't for whatever reason. A soft, amused, and dangerous laugh.

"Dear sir, let me be blunt. I’ve many mages at my disposal but not many warriors. And I have heard good things from those that survive the Pit, and its peculiar halfling master."

Sett’s ears twitched. "Hey, who’re you callin’ halflin'?"

The stranger ignored his outburst. "I know you are the strongest of the lot. That is your creed, is it not? The strongest gets to be the boss? And is it not true you will accept any challenge, provided of course it is of a physical nature?"

"Feats of strength and endurance only. No magic, no tomes, nothin’. Use whatever weapon you like as long as they’re not enchanted or poisoned. Most people choose to fight since it's quickest," Sett wiped his nose, right over his scar. "But I never lose."

"And what if you did?"

"Talking conditions with me? You really wanna pick a fight with me?"

"Is that not the common practice here? I would’ve thought the ruler of the Ionian underworld was a bit smarter than that."

There it was again, that little smile. It didn’t suit the man, Sett thought. It made him look kinder, softer. And those eyes, sweeping over Sett’s body like a slave master appraising their slave, connecting with Sett’s gaze and shifting, transforming, like the man already knew every little thought in Sett’s head. Like he knew just how much Sett was checking him out (What could he say? He had a type and that type was definitely tall, dark and dangerous).

He couldn’t help but feel like this was a trap, but how? The guy was ripped and bursting full of magic, but there was no way he was going to beat Sett. Not when he activated the anti-magic wards. And if those mages of his tried to intervene, Sett had hundreds more contenders itching to prove themselves again and get their chance for coin. Not a lot of things you couldn’t buy at the Pit. 

"Loser owes the winner a favour, them’s the rules." Sett relaxed in his chair, still smiling. "Because I’m feeling extra nice today, if I win, you become part of my squad. Make you wait hand and feet for me, and when I’m finished with you, you’ll be tossed into the Pit with the rest of the contenders." Sett kicked his feet up. "You’d make a fine footstool, ya know that? Keep you on all fours just for me."

The Demacian mages murmured amongst themselves but the stranger silenced them with his hand. "Very well, I accept. But as for my favour, it is a simple one. I want your best combatants fighting by my side. And since you’re the so-called champion of the Pit, you shall be amongst those ranks."

"Tempting, tempting," Sett smirked. "Not goin' for my job? Gotta say, it’s got its benefits."

The man said nothing, just put his hand out, waiting for a handshake. 

"Ya know, usually I’d like to know a name before I get hot and sweaty with another."

"Sylas," the stranger said curtly.

Sett stared at the hand before taking it, shaking their hands together in agreement. The hand of this stranger was coarse but strong and teeming with so much magic. And that was nothing to say for the rest of Sylas. There was something here, a spark, a flicker, a moment where Sylas’s throat bobbled up and down and his determination wavered. A softie, hidden inside a delicious, gorgeous shell, just waiting to be cracked open.

He was originally planning on fighting this guy. That’s what he normally did when people challenged him. But maybe he could have some fun. Whether he won or lost, one of them was going to be in the other’s services. Why not solidify the bond a little bit early?

"Since you challenged me, I get to choose the challenge, don’t I?"

"You do," Sylas said.

"Then follow me," Sett said as he stood up. "Guards, keep our guests entertained in the mean time. I've got my own entertainin' to do."

He could already hear what his crew would whisper when they thought he wasn't listening, but it was absolutely worth it just to see Sylas's face go pink in surprise.

The two of them walked through the winding corridors all the way to the guest chambers. The room was simple in decoration, with a desk and a chair and billowing translucent curtains hiding the window to the pits themselves. The grandest thing by far was the bed, made of the finest wood and covered in the softest crimson sheets this side of the continent. It was beautiful in the afternoon glow, but its true beauty was when the full moon washed over those dark sheets and writhing bodies, making sweat and bodily fluids shine on pliant skin.

Sett gave his usual signal to the two bodyguards that followed him, who both gave him a look of mild surprise, but took their posts. He closed the door and locked it, leaving him alone with his newest conquest.

Sylas turned to Sett, brows furrowed in confusion. "Why did you bring me here?"

Sett approached Sylas slowly, dug his claws into that thick, luscious ebony mane, and kissed Sylas fully on the mouth. There were sounds of protest, surprise, horror, but Sylas was frozen in place, completely at mercy. A most curious reaction in Sett's opinion. The straight guys would have pushed him away by now. The guys looking for a fight would have tried to sneak a punch in at least. Sylas did neither. He submitted fully, completely, utterly. 

His other hand trailed down Sylas's stomach before cupping his groin, squeezing it gently. His lips parted, and Sylas's parted easily with him. He could hear a quiet huff and then an even quieter moan. Lidded eyes and tense muscles and a shy, slithering tongue, all falling prey to carnal instinct.

When they part, Sylas stared wide-eyed at Sett, his cheeks as crimson as freshly-felled blood.

"Y-you…" Sylas hastily wiped his lips. "…w-what bewitching spell have you cast upon me?"

"Bewitchin' spell? You give me too much credit." Sett squeezed Sylas's balls again and the man moaned once more. "Though I must admit, I don't get people squealin' this easy until the pants are off at least."

"I-I…what is the meaning of this?"

"It's simple," Sett said. With his free hand, he brushed the long vest off of Sylas's chest before pawing at his belt. Their faces were so close again, and Sett felt the heat creep up his body as he imagined kissing this man again and again. But he held back on this instinct, and leaned forward, his lips to the shell of Sylas's ears. "You could fight me. I'll beat you till you're bloody and bruised. Or you can take this once-in-a-lifetime offer and try my other challenge. It'll still be fair. You'd probably have a chance of winning, even."

Sylas's eyes flickered down to Sett's pants. His adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed thickly. "What is this  _ offer _ ?"

Sett smirked. "Make me cum, and you win. I make you cum, I win. You leave this bedroom, I'm gonna assume you'd rather get your ass whooped. Or forfeit. I really don't mind either way."

"And what makes you think you won't lose in a fight, Settrigh of the Pit?"

Before Sylas could react, Sett grabbed Sylas and shoved him onto the mattress, pinning him down. Sylas tried to struggle, pushing against Sett's chest, punching with all his might, but it was little use. Sett had him right where he wanted him. His ears twitched in lust.

"You know, the only people who call me Settrigh's my Ma and a few special nighttime  _ friends  _ of mine. I don't let anyone else call me that. But you know what, I'll make an exception for you."

"Hmph. How  _ generous _ ," Sylas scoffed, even as his face went red in anger and shame.

"Sweet cheeks, you'd know if it was generosity. You're the special case. And I'll let you keep calling me that if you decide to accept my little  _ offer _ ."

It wasn't a lie. There was something about this man that excited Sett far more than usual. The way his ostentatious mask crumbled almost instantaneously with a simple kiss. The way the little bit of sweat droplets rolled down his massive, muscular chest. The way his pants were so deliciously tented, hiding away precious jewels that not even all the money in Noxus could buy.

Sett could not predict whether Sylas would accept his offer, nor could he tell how experienced the man was. Sett knew very well from running the Pit that the demure ones could often be the most ferocious. Maybe Sylas would give him a run for his money. It was a risk giving his competitor just that little bit more of an advantage, but Sett had to admit, unlike the other people who have challenged him, he was looking forward to seeing how this one would fight.

Sett sat up and shifted himself so he was sitting on Sylas's chest. One hand felt up his nipples while the other slipped lower, edging his pants lower and lower on his hips. He kept it slow and sensual, and was pleasantly surprised to find Sylas drinking him in, eyes wide in surprise and thinly-veiled lust. Sett took a shuddery breath in, his only lapse in composure before finally pulling his pants down below his waist. Sett's cock sprung out, thick and long and leaking and very much human-looking.

He could see the cogs churn in Sylas's head. What Sylas was thinking about, Sett didn't have a clue. All he could do was go with his gut, and his gut told him to shift his hips forward so his cock was mere centimetres from the man's lips.

"Come on," Sett said, his voice a lot more huskier as Vastayan instincts began to overwhelm him. "Ya know you want it."

There was a flicker in Sylas's eyes, and Sett almost expected the man to push him away and leave the bedroom altogether. But then he stared straight into Sett's eyes, fire and brimstone and power burning within his gaze. He opened his mouth and swallowed Sett whole.

That was when Sett realised that he had vastly underestimated his opponent.

It wasn't like Sylas was good or skilled or anything. Despite the confident start, he sucked cock so timidly and shyly, as though he thought Sett's cock might turn into a blade and stab his throat at any given minute. His hands gripped into Sett's ass tightly as if he was holding on for dear life, and he could barely take more than half of Sett's cock into his mouth. And he was slow, so slow, preferring to probe the tip with his tongue, sucking so lightly, sliding Sett's cock into his mouth at an excruciating pace. Sylas did not make a sound at all. Just breathed deeply through his nose, licking Sett clean, the wet noises of Sett's cock hitting his palate the only noise that could be heard outside of Sett's harsh breathing.

It shouldn't be good. Objectively it wasn't even in the top 3. Unobjectively, it was the best blowjob Sett has ever received in his life, and he was getting it from a complete amateur of all people. A gorgeous, sexy amateur with a tongue gifted by the gods.

Sylas left Sett’s cock with a pop and began to stroke it with a bit more confidence. He opened his saliva-slicked mouth, but thought better to say anything. Nothing he could say would let him have the upper hand. Not when his head was straddled so seductively between Sett’s thighs, his cheeks crimson and his lips so swollen and kissable. And yet that took Sett so off guard. How could someone be so enthusiastic and unenthusiastic at the same tune? How can a man want and not want him?

A thought arose with the rising flames inside his chest. It was possible, but…no, it couldn’t be. Not Sylas. Not this gorgeous man that was able to get the authority over Demacian mages.

"Y-you’re a virgin?"

Sylas’s face was carefully blank but his eyes betrayed his spirit.

"Shit, you don’t have to do this. I ain’t gonna take your virginity for a stupid bet."

"What makes you think I’m a virgin? And even if I hypothetically was, what good will it do me to remain pure? Marriage? Status? Those things are beneath me now." His other hand slid down Sett’s inner thighs, and Sett couldn’t help but shiver. In his Ma’s name, he never was this sensitive for anyone. Not even when Ma poured her special ointment over his cuts when he was a young boy.

"So you’re sure about this? Takin’ this to its natural conclusion?"

"I’d rather not get my  _ ass whooped  _ as you so crudely described."

Sett let out a shaky breath and a smile. "Good. Far more fun this way."

Slowly, Sett slid down Sett’s body and lowered his head down to Sylas’s crotch. He inhaled deeply, and almost moaned from that godly, heavy musk of want and need. That second one was a rarity in his admittedly lacking list of bedroom encounters. He couldn't describe it, but he could smell a person's intentions in their scent, and he knew what those scents meant. Want was a temporary sweeter note, but need was stronger. Need was possessive, overpowering, addictive. And this stranger was giving off this delicious musk for Sett. Without even so much as having a proper conversation.

This guy wasn't just enjoying the sex. He was craving it. Craving Sett. He couldn't imagine the last time someone smelled so much of need because of him.

Sylas smiled at him, and Sett realized that his ears were twitching again. He thought Sylas might mock him for his half-blood nature and his inbred instincts. Instead, Sylas softly carded his hand into Sett’s hair and rubbed him right behind his ears. This moan Sett could not suppress. How in the world did this stranger figure out his sensitive spot?

"Soft…" Sylas said, pleasantly surprised.

"Hey, eyes on me."

"Why, you are a kitten. A soft kitten." Sylas chuckled. "Could it be that the so-called King of the Pit is in fact a pussycat?"

He might have said more, but Sett took Sylas’s thick cock into his mouth, and the words on his tongue seemed to fade away.

God, it had been a while since Sett had given someone else a blowjob, but he was pretty sure none of his other partners felt so good. The smells, the textures, the way this cock was thick enough to stretch his mouth just right, and, oh yes, those insufferable little ear scratches and conflicted smile. He could lose himself to all this so easily, giving into this pleasure so eagerly. Just for this man. Just for this stranger named Sylas.

But Sylas was faltering, head flung back, breathing hard, eyes shut tight as he gripped tightly into Sett’s hair. How could one man be so erotic and amazing? Was this really all for the Pit? Sett himself wasn’t sure. For some reason, he didn’t want to do just a good job, he wanted to do great. Blow this guy’s brains out, hear him scream, make him remember this day for the rest of his life. Take over Sylas’s dreams and thoughts until he couldn't touch his own dick without thinking of Sett. Until Sylas was his.

So Sett increased the pace and added more pressure with his lips. Let his tongue swirl and taste, coaxing those noises to be louder, to be greater than the sum of their parts. And oh do those noises drip like sweet, sweet honey. Soft at first—a sigh, an "Aaahh" and a "nnngh~"—before becoming louder, bolder, more heated. Sylas’s other hand gripped onto the bed for mercy, but he got none as Sett swooped in for the attack, taking him all into his mouth, playing with his balls. Sylas countered with a soft tug at Sett’s hair, causing him to purr into Sylas’s cock.

"K-kitten…" Sylas whimpered.

Sett released his lips with an audible pop. "Close already? Just from a bit of head?" He whispered hoarsely.

Sylas’s eyes widen, betraying him once more. "I…" Sylas huffed.

"You’re gonna loss anyway," Sett purred. "Might as well make this fun."

"W-what…?"

With a surprising amount of ease, Sett lifted Sylas so he was sitting up and shifted behind, Sett’s chest flat against Sylas’s back. Not once did Sylas resist. Not when Sett kissed the side of his neck. Not when his hand wrapped once more around Sylas’s throbbing, leaking cock. Not when his other hand trailed down Sylas’s backside, mapping the river’s path southward before sliding down his glorious valley to the cave hidden beneath.

He pressed his thumb in and Sylas shivered. "B-by the gods…"

Sett stroked slowly, working to Sylas’s heart beat. The scent of Sylas’s want should be diminished from up here, but instead it seemed more potent, making up his sweat, leaking out of every pore. Nothing smelled so intoxicating in Sett’s life. He’d bottle it up and sell it sex-addicts if he could. It’d definitely make him a sinner. People always assumed he was the kind to party. Maybe he might, if a certain Demacian scoundrel was in the bed with him.

He nibbled on Sylas’s neck and felt a thrum of magic. Soft at first, returning in bigger and bigger waves. The storm was approaching, and he was but a swimmer in the ocean, waiting for the rip tide. Sett was idly aware that these waves coincided with the timing of Sylas’s moans, which were getting louder and heavier by the second. Sylas's cock was gushing into Sett's hand. When Sett adjusted his grip, Sylas whimpered.

"Ah, ah, gods, ah, please, mmmm, no more."

But they both knew he wanted even more. His magic said it, his scent said it. He was completely at Sett’s mercy, arching into Sett’s touch, thrusting his cock through Sett’s hand, instincts overcoming all sense and logic. He turned to Sett with pleading, shining eyes. His lips were so wet but his mouth was so dry.

Well, let it never be said that Sett couldn’t be kind every now and then.

Sett took Sylas's willing mouth into his own and felt the magic cascade out of Sylas's body, washing over him. The wave was taller than him now, a force of nature to be reckoned with, the one opponent guaranteed to be stronger than Sett. But he looked it head on, arms out, ready for what may come. He never backed down from a challenge. Not even this one.

"S-S-Settrigh…" Sylas rasped.

"Come for me, baby. Come for me."

The wave crashed down upon Sett and he drowned in it all. The magic, the scent, the desire, the ecstasy, the kiss, everything. It was all his to take, riches beyond value, beyond price, beyond everything.

Sett let Sylas down gently and let him recover on the bed while Sett went to clean himself up in the en-suite bathroom. When he returned, Sylas was sitting on the edge of the bed, clothed but mussed, fists tight and gaze even. Sett shouldn't care but there was something very familiar in that blank stare. Before he could even stop himself, he was already sitting down beside Sylas.

"You OK?" Sett asked.

"I lost your bet. A deal is a deal," Sylas said.

"Most people would be pretty pissed off right now. Some people would still be recovering from the fuck-ening. You just look sad," Sett commented.

Sylas glanced at Sett from the corner of his eye. He sighed, the cracks of his mask deepening. "You would not understand. You're not a Demacian, and you're certainly not a mage."

"Try me, hot shot." Before Sylas could even think to interrupt, Sett added, "This is just between you and me. I ain't gonna blab. Besides which, somethin' tells me this secret ain't all that secret to most other people." His thoughts inevitably drifted to Ma. He suppressed a shudder.

"You weren't a prisoner of Demacia. You didn't see your countrymen get torn apart and slaughtered for being different. And for what? For the pride and entertainment of those so-called nobles? For kings that no longer resemble their people?"

"What about almost gettin' torn apart and slaughtered yourself for the entertainment of others?" Sett pointed at his ears. "Half-beast, remember? I know all about bein' different. And so what? Don't see why you have to go all  _ slay the monarchy _ ."

"Because I know I can fight them." Sylas's dark eyes shone with magical power. "I can take back what is rightfully the people's."

Sett almost wanted to laugh at Sylas's earnestness. Almost. The only reason he didn't was because he understood those motives. Taking back what belonged to you. Fighting against those who oppressed you. They weren't all that different in the end. Maybe in another life, he might've fought against all of Noxus, maybe stop the Pit altogether. One day he'd sacrifice his reputation for Ma. He just hoped by then he'd have enough money to keep her comfortable and safe.

The words came out of his lips so easily. "I'll join you," Sett uttered.

Sylas's brows rose slightly. He did not say a word.

"You want fighters, there's plenty in the Pit who want a chance at fightin' a real battle. And if you need heavy hitters, I'm your man. But whatever money you make from this venture, I get a cut. And," Sett poked Sylas in the stomach, "I get to ask you for a rematch anytime I want."

"If I knew sharing my sob story would rouse you to battle, I would have said so sooner." The faintest of smiles spread across Sylas's face as he looked Sett up and down. It was an appraising look. Sylas's smile only grew. "Vastayan endurance, is it?"

"Half-Vastayan. The best kind of endurance," Sett said proudly. "Guess that means you're up for the challenge."

Sylas's smile grew playful as his fingers curled at the edge of Sylas's pants. With a gentle tug, he pulled them down to Sett's knees. "I very much doubt you are giving me much of a choice."

"Double or nothin'," Sett smirked. "Hit me with your best shot, and I might be willing to negotiate that cut with you."

"Oh, I intend to hit you alright, Settrigh of the Pit," Sylas purred as he took Sett's lips into his hot, wet mouth.

A part of Sett knew that he was setting himself up for betrayal with this foolish decision. Alliances never ended well in his personal experience, and at best he will have to part ways with Sylas and his gang of criminal mages soon enough. But the other part of him felt that unbridled passion locked away, untouched until this very moment, giving in so easily to Sett. There was something between them—a spark, or a chain, pulling them together, neither of them fighting against it. In another life, Sett might know what this unexplainable bond was, why he felt so much lighter in Sylas's presence, why he was so willing to expose his weak points to the man that would bring him down.

When that day comes, Sett would gladly let himself get crushed under foot. But for now, he will fight back dirtily, dig his claws into the most sensitive flesh, let his wicked tongue coax the sins away from Sylas's mouth, see this man howl to his gods.

After all, nobody said he couldn't have fun with the job.


End file.
